


What Can Be Given

by epiphanaea (Epiphanaea)



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: F/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Wholesome porn because this fandom needs more of that, communication is good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28799448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanaea/pseuds/epiphanaea
Summary: Rand, Min, and Rand's Issues go to bed for a second time; Min is determined there will be no miscommunications this time.
Relationships: Rand al'Thor/Min Farshaw
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	What Can Be Given

“How are your ribs?”

Rand looked up from the letters he'd been reading; not letters written to him, but every first-hand account of the Seanchan that could be gathered. He'd had the palace guard combing the city for them, offering a silver mark for each. The authenticity of some of them was highly suspect, but he thought he had enough truth to be going on with.

Min was leaning in the doorway to his study, arms folded beneath her breasts. There was a slight flush in her cheeks, and she looked . . . determined. He was surprised to notice that the room behind her, the western-facing sitting room, was awash in golden light; it was afternoon already?

“I'm fine,” he said. In truth he was still a little sore from the Maidens' pointed reminder of his obligations to them, now several days past, but it was hardly noticeable alongside the constant throb of the wound in his side. She was probably going to scold him for not eating; that was what that look on her face must be.

“Good,” she said, crossed the room to him, and sat on his lap.

Sat _astride_ his lap; it was the only way she could have fit between him and the desk, but it still briefly shocked him. Then she was kissing him, and shock bubbled up into sudden, hot lust.

He hadn't tried to take her to bed again since he first returned, when they had been quite decisively interrupted. And while Min seemed to have moved herself into his quarters in his absence, spending her days there curled up with a book or practicing flourishes with her knives or offering pithy commentary on the nobility of Cairhein, she'd developed the habit of retiring early, and by the time he came to the bed she now shared, she'd always been asleep.

Or feigning sleep, he'd thought once or twice. It had confused him and made him uneasy; surely a woman ensconcing herself in a man's home and sleeping in his bed meant she intended to have him as her lover? But she'd not teased, not kissed him; her blouses were laced up to the neck and whatever it was she did to make her lips redder and her lashes look longer, she hadn't been doing it – not that he thought her any less beautiful without.

It had never occurred to him that she'd been less than amorous because she thought he was in no fit state for it, after the beating the Maidens had given him.

He was very much in a state for it now, as she was bound to notice any moment.

She did, and drew back, biting her flushed lip. She looked pleased, but also uncertain, and her cheeks were very red. She looked like a woman gathering her courage.

“You don't have to mind that,” he said, stumbling over the words. “We can just kiss.”

Well that washed all uncertainty from her face. There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes now.

“Rand al'Thor,” she said, in a very level yet still heated tone. “I thought we'd been through this. I do not _have to_ do anything at all with you. I do not have to be kissing you right now. I do not have to be sharing your rooms, or your bed. I'm here because I choose to be, because I _want_ to be, and I -” she paused to draw in a deep breath, and the redness returned to her cheeks. “- I have had all I can stand of being near you all the time, of _sleeping in your bed,_ and not having you. I want you to take me to bed right now.”

Well, there was nothing confusing in that, and Rand found himself grinning as he knocked back the chair and stood, still holding her. She squeaked, and her legs clamped around him. Oh, he was in quite a state indeed.

“You did say right now,” he pointed out teasingly.

Her eyes narrowed, and she very deliberately rolled her hips against him. “Bed,” she growled.

“As my lady commands.” His voice did not wobble; it was just a little strained from holding her weight.

Rand refrained from making a gateway from the study to the bedroom; he could walk that far. Min squeaked again when he dropped her on the bed, then grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him down for a very thorough kiss. He tried to climb up after her, but she pushed him back with a hand on his chest and rose up on her knees.

“Strip, sheepherder,” she commanded, her own fingers flying to the oh-so-modest laces of her blouse. “I didn't get a chance to enjoy the view last time.”

Did women _say_ things like that? Well, apparently they did. Min did, anyway, and for the moment she was the only woman in the world. This room _was_ the world; she was grinning wickedly and tugging her now gaping blouse out of her trousers, and everything else could go hang.

He could not possibly look as enticing while struggling out of his breeches as she did peeling silk the color of new apples from her legs. Her nipples were the color of plums, the feathery fluff at the juncture of her thighs inky black, and her bared skin the palest, sweetest honey. She was every lustful thought he'd ever had and she was Min. _Min._ Min was naked in his bed.

Min was crawling down the bed toward him, eyes flickering between his face and his cock, looking like she had _ideas._

That was good; he did not have ideas. He didn't have thoughts; he was all one great throb of need to be inside her and to hold her, to crush her against him and feel her around him and -

“Has anyone told you,” she said, slipping off the end of the bed and laying one hand on his chest; his arms went around her, his hands running down her back to her hips and drawing her close. “ - that you are just absurdly delicious to look at?”

_Delicious?_

She dragged her nails down his stomach until her fingers closed around his cock. Then she slipped out of his arms and knelt.

A frisson of unease cut through his lust. He thought he knew what she meant to do next, but why would she want to do that? She couldn't have meant delicious _literally_ , and there was nothing for her to enjoy in it.

He didn't want Min on her knees before him; it was too much like all those other women who had thrown themselves at him – at the dragon reborn. She couldn't think he expected that of her, could she?

“Min, you – you don't have to, um -”

She raise an eyebrow, looking up at him with those wide dark eyes. Her thumb was tracing maddening, wonderful little circles on the underside of his cock.

Why was she giving him that look?

Oh. She didn't _have_ to do any of this; she wanted to. Right. But -

“I just mean, we've already – you let me -” That eyebrow was climbing. Her thumb stopped.

_Don't say 'let' or 'have to'._

He'd heard other boys in the Two Rivers talk about this, about how a mouth was almost as good as the real thing. Not that any of them would have known, about the real thing. It was a thing a girl might offer if she wouldn't let you have more before the wedding.

Rand hadn't been able to imagine – Light, _Egwene_ , it seemed so odd now that his imaginings had always been of her – that she would ever offer any such thing. He hadn't really wanted her to; whatever they did together eventually, he wanted it to feel good for her too, not be some favor she did him.

“Sheepherder,” Min said warningly, raised brows drawing down.

“Why would you want to do that?” Rand asked, more than a bit desperately. She still had her hand wrapped around his cock, for Light's sake, how was he supposed to think straight? But another thought occurred to him. “Was it not – good? For you? When we – last time -”

Did she not want him inside her again? _Did I hurt her, no matter what she said?_

If he had any kind of decency, that thought alone should have been enough to make him go limp, but Min's expression had softened and her hand stroked, just a little, and he was anything but.

“It was good,” Min said, her voice gentle now. There was her thumb again, rubbing just – oh, Light - “I don't know how you missed how good it was for me, but just to make it crystal clear – I wanted you, I still want you, and right now I want to make you feel so good your eyes cross because I _love you_ , you woolhead, so if you have no further objections -?

Hearing her say again that she loved him stole words, for a moment; what could he say, when he could promise her so little and needed her so much?

“I love you too,” he managed hoarsely, hearing the disbelief in his own voice and praying she wouldn't take exception to it.

But she just said, “Good.” Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock and sensation drowned everything else in the world.

He couldn't have said what she did, only that all of it was amazing, lips and tongue and heat. Her hand remained wrapped around the base of him, for which he was grateful, because it meant when his hips jerked and twitched he couldn't gag her. How could _anything_ feel this good? He didn't know if his eyes were crossing, but his legs were shaking and every tug of her lips sent a tingling rush up his spine.

It was scant minutes before he was at the edge of exploding, and oh Light, it was going to be good, he could feel it like the tension in the air before a storm breaks.

He couldn't – she wouldn't want -

“Min!” Rand gasped, frantic. “Min, stop!”

Her lips released him with a soft pop. His cock twitched – blood and ashes, his whole _body_ twitched at the sudden loss of sensation. She kept her hand wrapped around him, and he thought that was all that saved his sanity.

“Hrmm?” she asked. Her eyes were nearly black and her lips were flushed blood red. He'd never seen anything so beautiful or so alluring in his life.

“I was going to – uh -” His voice sounded half-strangled. She could _move_ her hand – finish him off. Could he ask her to? Was it alright to ask for something like that?

The look on her face was tender and exasperated all at once. “I appreciate the warning,” she said, those red, red lips quirking up at one side in a soft smile. “But that's the point, sheepherder.” And her lips closed over him while he was still boggling at that.

She actually wanted him to – was going to let him – not that he could have stopped it when her mouth was all heat and softness and sucking pressure and her tongue was pressing hard and wriggling and -

His eyes _may_ have crossed; his mouth gaped, but the only sound he could manage was a sort of choking gurgle.

Her ministrations gentled as he came down, and then she drew away, wiping her lips on the back of her free hand. The hand around his cock stayed a moment longer, giving a few gentle strokes before letting go. It felt affectionate, fond – could a woman be _fond_ of a man's cock?

Or maybe just of the man it was attached to; he'd never considered this sort of thing that way, as a kind of taking care of someone else, but that was how it felt.

“You good up there, sheepherder?” Min asked.

He nodded, swallowing. Sat on the edge of the bed. Let himself fall backwards, bouncing when he hit the mattress. Min chuckled softly; it was a rich, self-satisfied sound. The mattress shifted as she climbed up beside him and curled into his side, settling her head into the hollow of his shoulder and peering up at him. He knew there was a dopey smile on his face.

It was ridiculous, but he thought of wives bringing their husbands a midday meal or a cup of tea out in the fields, like they did back home – better not to say that, as if her letting him come in her mouth were as ordinary as a cup of tea, but it felt like that.

“Can I do that for you?” he asked. He wasn't quite sure how that would work, but he wanted to – to haul the firewood in for her and make sure the roof was sound, and Light burn him for it, he couldn't take care of her that way, but maybe he could do this. “Something that's as good as that for you?”

Her small smile widened, went impish and eager. “Oh, you certainly can, sheepherder. I will be very, very happy to teach you.”

***

Min wasn't sure she was going to survive this; if she didn't die of blushing, then sheer, overwhelming lust was going to kill her.

She'd always liked older men; experienced, confident men who knew their way around a woman's body and weren't put off by her insistence on nothing that might get her pregnant. It wasn't like she'd never had a man's head between her legs before.

And yet, she was completely unprepared for what it would do to her to have Rand there, all of that earnest intensity of his focused on making a thorough study of her quim.

She was settled in a nest of pillows against the headboard – arranged there by Rand, who had taken a sort of earnest glee in making a production of getting her comfortable. Now he lay on his stomach in front of her, his elbows between her spread thighs. She had said she would teach him; _just keep looking at me like that and I'll probably come_ was likely not the sort of instruction he was hoping for.

“You're so soft,” he said, fingers exploring her _maddeningly_ gently. “And slippery,” he added, with a glint in his eye, like he was proud of knowing what _that_ meant, and Light help her, even that was adorable just because it was Rand.

“Here,” she said, her fingers joining his. “This is where it feels best.”

He wasted no time in getting a thumb there, rubbing much too softly, but her hips snapped up into the sensation anyway. He grinned, all smug accomplishment, and then pressed a soft peck of a kiss where his thumb had just been.

A sound escaped her that was halfway between a whine and a growl; the man was going to kill her. His thumb went back to its careful torture while he looked up at her questioningly. “It doesn't feel better inside? I mean, to have something in you?”

There was uncertainty on his face, though he was trying to hide it – as if he wasn't as predictable in his thinking as every other man in the world, when it came to this. She couldn't help a snorting giggle.

“Yes, I liked your cock in me, sheepherder.” He flushed brilliantly, and she reached down to give his hair a teasing yank, followed by an affectionate ruffling. “It's a very nice cock, and you put it to excellent use.”

Light, he was nearly purple; this was fun.

“Of course, it's the only cock I've ever had in me, so I don't have anything to compare it to, but I definitely enjoyed it.”

He wasn't just purple, he was breathing raggedly, his eyes wide. Liking this, was he?

“And when you had it all the way inside me as deep as you could go, pounding away at a gallop -”

“Light, Min,” he rasped. He looked a bit like he'd been hit in the head.

“ - that sort of squished and jostled this,” she concluded, arching into the thumb that had unfortunately gone still. “Which, combined with how you felt inside me, was really, really good. That bit there is . . . needy.”

“Needy,” he repeated.

“Yeah, sheepherder, needy,” she repeated, squirming.

He took the hint; without taking his eyes from her face, he leaned down to press another, more lingering kiss there. For a few blissful seconds, his tongue pressed against her.

“Mm, yeah,” Min said.

His head lifted, assessing her reaction, and her hips rocked up, trying to chase the pressure.

“Well,” he said, smiling slowly, a little of his balance regained, “We can't have that.”

He followed his words with one slow, firm lick that made her legs tremble and her feet arch – and then he stopped again, to see the effect he'd had.

“Sheepherder,” she growled warningly. His smile widened into a grin.

“Can't have you needy,” he repeated, and though the words were teasing, there was something tender in them too.

This time when he bent his head to her, he didn't stop, and if he was still a little clumsy, he made up for it by being very, very devoted to his task. All she had to do was twitch for him to pick up on what she liked. Not that there was much she didn't like about having his mouth on her, but there was good and then there was him figuring out that he could press with his tongue and suck at the same time. If he hadn't already had a grip on her thighs, she might have broken his nose.

“You – you could -” She'd meant to ask for a finger or two, but his eyes rolled up to meet hers at the words and well, that would have to be for next time, because that finished her. And, oh, it was _good;_ throbbing, shuddering, whole-body good. He stared as if whatever ridiculous face she was no doubt making was the most riveting thing he'd ever seen, which just made her clench again, and again, and _again._

Light, it wasn't as if he'd done anything fancy – it was just that it was _Rand_. What was she going to do when he got truly good at this? Just never get out of bed? That didn't seem like such a bad plan, actually.

Rand gave her inner thigh a soft kiss, then backed away down the bed.

“Where're you going?” Min asked, voice muzzy with contentment. She still felt little aftershocks like popping bubbles of pleasure.

“Nowhere,” Rand said, climbing over her leg and flopping down beside her; he did that a lot when he was happy, she noticed. The flopping. Like some oversized puppy, the Light help her. He kissed her shoulder.

“Good?” he asked, in a warm rumble of a voice; not very puppy-ish. So full of contradictions, her sheepherder.

“Mm,” she responded, which she thought was admirably coherent, and rolled toward him for a kiss. He responded with fervor, but pulled back when she tried to wrap a leg around him. Why -? A glance down gave her the answer.

He really did have a very nice cock, and it was looking extremely eager again. Her quim gave a hungry throb, the lassitude evaporating from her limbs.

“I don't mind if you've had enough,” Rand said, sounding abashed.

At least he wasn't telling her they didn't _have to._

_You can want things, Rand. It's okay to want things for yourself._

“Hrmm,” Min answered, in what she thought was clearly feigned indecision, though from the look of pained resolution on his face, perhaps he was in no state to appreciate that. “Gimme,” she said, hooking a heel behind his knee and tugging at his shoulder, trying to pull him atop her.

He needed no further urging, and Light, he was big, over her like this. All wiry muscle and broad shoulders, full of deliciously taut strength. He was actually trembling, just a little. There was something about the the way the muscles of his stomach tensed and jumped if his cock so much as bumped her leg while he climbed into place between her thighs that sent a hot spike of need through her.

“Come _here_ ,” she said, wrapping both legs around his hips and tugging, as if he wasn't trying to, slipping awkwardly against her. The tightness of his stomach, that needy curl of his spine, was a permanent thing now. She knew she was echoing it, curling up into him. “I want it, Rand, I want you in me.”

“Trying,” he said, with a breathless chuckle. He hadn't had so much trouble finding the right angle last time, but then, they'd both pretty much just shoved until it worked, and if it had hurt a little she hadn't minded one bit.

He could not know, ever, that it had hurt at all – she hadn't cared, but he would.

It could get better than that, though, she thought. The hollow, greedy throb between her legs said so.

“Here.” She reached down and just grabbed his cock – his breath fell out of him in a whining rush – and put it where it needed to be, arching her hips up and squirming and rocking until she felt herself opening to him, drawing him in.

He groaned and slid deep in one easy motion, after that, jolting a whimper out of her when his hips met hers. Oh, yes, that was it; fullness and the weight of him and the look of wondering adoration on his face.

“Min,” he said, staring down at her. “Min,” like it was the only sound he remembered in the world. His eyes were a blue that almost glowed.

“Move,” she whined, and without quite thinking about what she was doing, kicked him in the backside with her heel.

Her eyes widened; he looked startled. He gave a bark of a laugh, and his face changed, mischief crinkling the corners of his eyes and and a wicked, somehow very _male_ sort of smile curving his lips. With a growl, he moved.

Oh, yes, he moved, and he could look just as smug as he wanted that his thrust pushed her back into the pillows and made her squeak. That was just perfectly fine.

 _Almost_ perfectly, she decided, a few very enjoyable and yet frustrating moments later.

Her legs were locked around him like a vise and yet she couldn't cling tightly enough; her hands scrabbled at his arms, his shoulders, desperate just to hang on. To keep the grind of his pelvis against her when he thrust deep, to keep that pounding pressure inside her that hit _just right_ on maybe every third stroke. When it all aligned her whole body felt like a stuck bell, ringing with it, and she wanted that _every time,_ burn it.

“Rand,” she whimpered. “Rand!” That wasn't very informative, was it? “I can't – can't hold _still._ ” That hadn't actually made much sense either.

His rhythm faltered. “You – want to hold still?” He sounded confused; she didn't blame him.

“I want to feel it more, you're so strong and I can't hold on to feel you,” she babbled. “Hold me?”

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to be able to decipher that and she was going to wail, but then a light of comprehension dawned in his eyes, and what she desperately hoped was an idea.

His arms had been planted to each side of her at about shoulder high, but now he moved them up over her shoulders, to either side of her head – very careful to avoid pinning her hair, the dear sweet man. It meant she had to arch her back and crane her neck to look him in the eye, as he thrust experimentally, such a very serious, intent frown on his face.

“Better?” Her shoulders were braced against his wrists now. She tilted her hips experimentally, trying out the new leverage she had. Yes, that was better, even as slowly and carefully as he was moving now.

“Min?”

She nodded her head a bit shakily, most of her brain occupied with the sensations between her legs.

He moved a bit faster, a bit harder. “This is still okay? I'm not hurting you?”

She kicked him again.

Rand laughed and fell back into a rhythm – a trot, a canter, finally back to a gallop, all pounding speed and exhilaration. And if she reached up and grabbed his forearms so she could push back into it – right – like – that -

Oh _yes_ , that.  
She wanted to say something, like that he was wonderful and she loved him and he had just the most beautiful eyes and the best, most amazing cock, really, she didn't need to compare, she was sure of it, but perhaps luckily she couldn't have caught her breath enough of for words had her life depended on it.

Anyway, he was panting too, looking just as stunned and overwhelmed as she felt. When he started to groan, it was as if he caught the same sound inside her and drew it out.

They sounded absurd as much as obscene – who knew she could love that so much? She loved _him_ , so much.

He shook; his gallop faltered. She could feel him jerk and pulse inside her, and the thought of how good that must feel, for his whole body to tense and shudder like that, for his face to look like that, sent her falling right after him.

Rand stilled deep inside her as she clenched around him, his eyes locked on hers, watching her like she might disappear if he looked away. Spasms faded into flutters, and he gave a few last, small nudges inside her as if trying to wring every last drop of sensation he could out of the moment. He finally withdrew – a not entirely comfortable sensation, she thought she might be a little sore tomorrow – and fell to her side.

Flopping, again; Min thought of how controlled he was in public now, all the time, and felt a rush of warmth and pride. She'd made him look like that, all boneless and sated. Min curled into his shoulder, and Rand pulled her closer, so that she lay half across his chest.

“We're getting better at that,” Min said, looking up at him through her lashes. “We should practice. Lots.”

He gave a laugh that sounded a little shocked, and his arms tightened around her. “Light, Min, how are you even real?”

How could she feel so desperately happy and yet sad at the same time? _The Pattern owed you one, sheepherder._

More than one.

Nope, she was not going to think of that right now. For this moment, he was all hers.

“You're not bad yourself,” she said, “for a hopeless hay-hair.”

She wasn't sure she understood the way he looked at her then – which could have had to do with the angle, he was absurdly oversized and she had entirely too good a view up his nose at the moment. It was a very intent look.

“Don't ever stop calling me that,” he said, and there was longing in his voice. “Hay-hair and sheepherder and - promise me, Min.”

_Oh, Rand._

“I promise, sheepherder,” Min said, with all the solemnity of a vow. “I promise.”


End file.
